


eveningtide

by jellijeans



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Caretaking, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, I just want them to be happy, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Relationship Study, Short & Sweet, they're so soft and i love them so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellijeans/pseuds/jellijeans
Summary: There are very few nights that Hubert actually gets the luxury of sleep; most times, he stumbles back into their room in the early hours of the morning, sleeps like a dead man for the few hours he can, and then wakes up and starts the process all over again. Ferdinand has only a vague idea of what he does—sometimes serving as Edelgard’s right hand, sometimes much more dubious activities—but is rarely awake when he returns, unless he’s woken up by Hubert as he shifts under the covers next to him.(Unlike Ferdinand, Hubert does so in an almost peaceful fashion, delicately scooting into bed beside him, which Ferdinand appreciates. He himself prefers to throw himself into bed in a manner befitting of a noble that has had a very, very long day of violence amidst a very, very apparent lack of tea.)





	eveningtide

There are very few nights that Hubert actually gets the luxury of sleep; most times, he stumbles back into their room in the early hours of the morning, sleeps like a dead man for the few hours he can, and then wakes up and starts the process all over again. Ferdinand has only a vague idea of what he does—sometimes serving as Edelgard’s right hand, sometimes much more dubious activities—but is rarely awake when he returns, unless he’s woken up by Hubert as he shifts under the covers next to him.

(Unlike Ferdinand, Hubert does so in an almost peaceful fashion, delicately scooting into bed beside him, which Ferdinand appreciates. He himself prefers to throw himself into bed in a manner befitting of a noble that has had a very, _ very _ long day of violence amidst a very, _ very _ apparent lack of tea.)

And yet this night is a reversal of how their nights usually are; there is no battle awaiting them the next day—they’re not even marching right now, having captured an important fortress and setting up Imperial soldiers there while the Strike Force plans their next move in the monastery—and Hubert has been nearly dead asleep since the evening, and it is Ferdinand who comes to bed later.

He hits the pillow next to him without any of his natural grace, having not even taken his clothes off yet; beside him, Hubert stirs slightly, mumbling something into his pillow.  
“Oh—Hubert, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were—”

Hubert cuts him off by murmuring something else into his pillow and then pushing himself up, brushing a lock of black hair out of his face, and only then does Ferdinand realize just how _ tired _ he looks. Somehow, despite the rest, the bags under his eyes seem more pronounced, the pallor of his skin even more prominent than usual, and Ferdinand feels even more guilty for waking him up.

But that guilt is relieved when Hubert turns to him and graces him with the smallest hint of a smile, and Ferdinand sits up just a little bit to press a soft kiss to his lips, almost laughing as Hubert sleepily leans into it, pinning him to the bed.

“Missed me, did you?” Ferdinand teases. Hubert pulls back for a moment just to give him a look before kissing him again, tracing a line from the corner of his mouth to his throat before frowning.

“...you’re still in your clothes.”

And yet before he can do anything, Hubert is sitting up, meticulously undoing the buttons on his overcoat one by one. Ferdinand could never get tired of this, being taken care of, having someone willing to wake up in the middle of the night just to help him undress.

“You do not need to help me undress,” Ferdinand says, laughing despite himself, and Hubert shakes his head, stifling a yawn.

“I would not be good for much else,” Hubert says, and he slips a hand under Ferdinand to lift him up as he uses his other to shimmy off Ferdinand’s overcoat, folding it shoddily before placing it off to the side somewhere Ferdinand can’t quite see. “Besides, it is nice to...care for someone else.”

“I am glad,” Ferdinand says, stretching his legs as Hubert returns to his side, hands now shifting to his cravat. He doesn’t say no; he knows that this is Hubert’s ritual, a way to atone for the suffering he has caused others by caring for someone else. An opportunity for his hands to be used for anything aside from killing.

Ferdinand shivers as Hubert tosses aside his cravat and lowers his mouth to the divot between Ferdinand’s collarbones, a kiss following every undone button of his dress shirt, down to his navel before he works Ferdinand’s shirt off and then rests his head against Ferdinand’s chest, closing his eyes. One of Ferdinand’s hands finds its way to Hubert’s hair, gently tangling in it, index finger scratching lightly against his scalp.

“Thank you,” Ferdinand says, and Hubert hums something contentedly into his chest as a response. His other hand finds its way to Hubert’s back, just as bare as his, fingertips brushing against every scar that Hubert has accumulated over the years.

The truth, Ferdinand knows, is that Hubert is tired—they both are, because this war has gone on for far too long, and there is a second one that he barely knows about that Hubert fights on a daily basis. It shows on Hubert’s face. The tiredness, the eye bags, the way his eyes are dull even after a full night’s rest—and it hurts Ferdinand. He isn’t even the one dealing with it, and yet to see Hubert worn so thin day after day after day is something that he suspects may be more than his weak heart can bear.

Against him, Hubert curls slightly, head tilting against the warmth of his skin; he looks almost contented. The tips of Ferdinand’s fingers gently tease through Hubert’s hair, soft and unkempt.

He would give anything for nights like these. Nights where Hubert is not off risking his life for some war that the general public doesn’t even know exists, nights where there is no battle they must fight early the next morning and hope they will live to see the end of. Nights where the only concern on Ferdinand’s mind is the way Hubert blinks back up at him after a moment, yellow eyes reflecting endless emotions that Ferdinand only hopes he will one day be able to distinguish.

“Hubert?” Ferdinand’s hand doesn’t leave his hair just yet, but he stops, locks of black hair caught between his fingers.

“Tomorrow morning, provided you have nothing to do—”

“I do not—”

“—I will make you some tea, and fetch the croissants you like from the kitchen. We can breakfast together in the terrace, if you would like.”

A blush slowly works its way up Ferdinand’s cheeks, and he’s certain Hubert can feel the way his heart thumps against his chest. It’s the little things, the tiny ways in which Hubert says “I love you” without actually saying it at all that makes Ferdinand fall more in love with him each day. That a man such as Hubert could burn the candle on both ends every day without fail and still find time for him never fails to make him smile.

“Oh, love, you do not need to—”

“No, please, Ferdinand. I insist. It’s been far too long since the last time we spent a morning together. We should take the opportunity while it’s available.”

Neither of them say the unspoken, that every time they have a meal together very well could be the last time, that Ferdinand could be assigned to some location unfortunate enough to be on the Kingdom border and never see Hubert again, but it exists in the back of both of their minds. Ferdinand exhales, because he knows it to be true. Hubert has a point.

Also, he would never deny Hubert of a good breakfast. Not only would it be ignoble, Ferdinand enjoys a good meal with Hubert over most things in life.

Ferdinand smiles. “You are right, Hubert. I would love to.”

And then Hubert smiles, such a delicate and graceful thing on his features, and presses another butterfly-light kiss to his chest before closing his eyes.

“Hubert—”

He mumbles something in response, clearly ready to actually sleep. Once again, Ferdinand smiles, because that is what Hubert does to him.

“I love you.” He runs his hand through Hubert’s hair once more, relishing in the smile that continues to grace Hubert’s features. He cradles Hubert’s face with one hand just enough to lift himself so he can kiss Hubert and then lays him back down on the bed beside him, throwing an arm around his waist and tucking himself into the nook of Hubert’s neck. “Sleep well.”

“I love you too,” Hubert murmurs, and for once, sleep is all that awaits them.

**Author's Note:**

> these two have literally taken over my life i love them so much and they are so soft but JESUS they are so hard to write !!!!!!!! but i think i got it so you'll def see more hubertnand from me teehee !! shoutout to the ferdibert discord server for enabling me with hcs
> 
> come hang out with me on twitter @jellijeans !!! i just yell about hubertnand a lot i love them dearly !!!


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